And so, leaning against the wall, she stood till he had gone, then turned about, murmuring to herself.
“An honorable gentleman—why could not I have loved an honorable gentleman?”
She paced to and fro with unheeding steps.
“False and false—liar and dishonored—yet—” Her tears rose beyond control; she fell to her knees and wept with hidden face, bitterly and silently.
The fire dropped to a heap of gray ashes; the light had faded when at length Delia rose, and moving to the window, set it wider open.
The sun was sinking behind the housetops; heavy snow-laden clouds lay to the right and left of it and the whole west was golden. A cold wind touched her tear-stained face and ruffled her tumbled hair; the sun’s reflection burnt like flame in the window-pane and cast a dazzle along the thin frosting of snow on the ledges opposite.
It was silent as night; she was too high to view the street; but a sign hanging from one of the houses opposite, she caught sight of, the image of a peacock in full splendor and the sun glittered on that in vivid blue and green.
Then gradually the sky faded into a soft violet and the great clouds closed over the sun.
Delia left the window and taking her cloak from the wall, put it on with steady hands; then she dragged a small box from the corner into the light and opened it.
From the many little articles it contained, she selected a plain ring that had belonged to Perseus, a leathern purse of money and a gilt button that had once belonged to her father’s uniform.